


lazarus got no dirt on me

by dev0n



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Identities, Defenders Spoilers, M/M, Post-Defenders, Post-Punisher, Punisher Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: Matt holds a hand out to Pete. "Jack Batlin. Nice to meet you."Pete snorts, amused. He shakes the proffered hand with a firm grip. "Pete Castiglione. It's a pleasure, Mr. Batlin."





	1. now you try to tell me you're not a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> i just finished watching the punisher and i am so sad there is no post-punisher fic for these two...... i have so many feelings. i just kinda wrote this without much thought toward where i'm going with it, but hopefully i'll add onto it eventually?? unbeta'd, proofread by me.
> 
> title from the song mephistopheles of los angeles/fated, faithful, fatal by marilyn manson (i hope y'all know how much i fanboyed when they played that in 1x11, by the way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from heaven upside down by marilyn manson.

Matt Murdock sits beside Frank Castle ─ er, Pete Castiglione ─ on a park bench on a cool April evening approximately five months after the latter is paid with a fake identity to keep his mouth shut. Pete should be surprised, but somehow, he's not. Too much weird shit has happened in his life for him to be surprised that he's sitting beside his dead, blind lawyer, who he's pretty sure is also Daredevil. The two sit in silence for a few moments before Pete barks out a laugh, surprising even himself.

"We must be the two most stubborn sons of bitches in all of New York, huh?" Pete sighs, leaning back against the bench. "We just don't know how to stay dead, you and me. Your disguise is better than mine, though."

Matt turns his head toward Pete, his own lips quirked up into a grin. Perhaps the most noticeable change is that his hair is now red. He's wearing sunglasses and is otherwise dressed casually, a hoodie and jeans. He also doesn't have his cane; when he'd walked up to Pete, it was with the sure stride of a sighted person.

"Thanks," Matt replies, and Pete sees him relax a little. He holds a hand out to Pete. "Jack Batlin. Nice to meet you."

Pete snorts, amused. He shakes the proffered hand with a firm grip. "Pete Castiglione. It's a pleasure, Mr. Batlin." 

They both fall into contemplative silence then, Matt ─ or rather, Jack ─ facing straight ahead and Pete looking up at the sky. "There a reason you came over here, _Jack?"_

Jack goes quiet for a moment. Pete isn't certain how to take the silence. Finally, Jack says, "Honestly? Not really." He gives a little self-deprecating laugh. "Would you believe that I was just relieved to recognize someone who I could actually probably reveal myself to without many repercussions?"

Pete scratches at his stubble and hums. "Yeah. Yeah, I would," he decides finally. "What've you been up to, huh?"

"I met my mother," Jack says softly. Pete looks over at him. He supposes this must mean something important to Jack. He waits for him to elaborate. Jack does, after a few seconds; he continues, "She, ah, she's a nun now. She wasn't when I was born, though. Anyway, I, I stayed with her until I was well enough to leave. Now I live in a tiny shithole apartment and bartend."

Pete hums again. "They don't ask about the glasses?"

"I said something about an eye condition. I'm a good enough bartender that I don't think they care all that much."

"Well, you didn't lie," Pete grins.

"What about you? I heard about, ah. The bomb thing." Pete just grunts in response, and Jack adds, "I was pretty sure it wasn't you, you know. I know you have your, uh... Code."

"Yeah, well." Pete shrugs his shoulders. "All that's behind me now. Just like I'm pretty sure you want Midland Circle to stay in _your_ rearview mirror, huh?"

"Fair," Jack agrees, grimacing. "Then, uh... What have you been up to since?"

"This and that," Pete says. He rolls his eyes at Jack's unimpressed silence. "Really, I ain't been doing much. Keep my head down, work construction. Get a little housing assistance and whatnot from the government. Pete Castiglione is a vet too, apparently. And I, uh. I go to VA support groups every week, or whatever. My buddy runs one."

Jack turns his head toward Pete again. The smile on his face is wide and warm and makes Pete a little self-conscious. "That's great, Fr-- Pete," he says sincerely. "It sounds like you've been doing pretty good."

Pete shrugs one shoulder and looks away. "Yeah. Guess so."

They fall into another lull, and it's a little awkward, but mostly it's just nice. Jack is the first one to break it. "Do you..." He hesitates, tilting his head away from Pete slightly. "Do you wanna grab a drink, or something?"

Jack's voice is hesitantly hopeful, and Pete can practically _hear_ the loneliness seeping through. He's intimately familiar with the feeling. It's probably a bad idea, they both must know that, but Pete smiles anyway and claps Jack on the shoulder. "Why not? You know a place, Red?"

Jack grins again, and Pete once again tries valiantly to ignore the stupid fluttering inside himself. "Yeah," he says, getting up. Pete follows suit. They start down the sidewalk together, Jack leading the way. It's another minute or so later that Pete suddenly snorts with amusement, glancing over to Jack with a grin. "What?" Jack asks, brow furrowing.

"S'just ─ I still have a reason to call you 'Red'," Pete snickers, reaching up to ruffle Jack's hair. It's considerably shorter than he's ever seen it, too, now that he's looking. He thinks he sees Jack flush a little as he bats Pete's hand away.

"... It's my natural color," Jack admits under his breath. That just makes Pete laugh again.

"No shit?"

"No shit," Jack sighs, elbowing Pete in the side. "Shut up, Cast...iglione."

Pete grins, shoving his hands into his pockets again. "Eh," he shrugs. "Red's your color, anyway. Looks good on you."

Jack looks a little surprised. He smiles. "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say to anyone, Pete."

Now it's Pete's turn to flush. He elbows Jack in the side ─ or tries, but the lawyer (bartender?) neatly dodges him. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

"What if I buy you a drink? Then will I get more compliments?" Jack teases, pausing outside the bar.

Pete considers him for a moment, then smirks. "Make it two, and I'll think about it."


	2. i am a diamond that is tired of all the faces i've acquired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so!!! i added onto this!!! let's see if i find the muse to keep going from here or not.
> 
> chapter title from spade by marilyn manson.

"There's just not much I can do, you know? That's the thing," Pete sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. They've been at the bar for nearly two hours now, just... Talking. Pete's surprised at how easy it is, and he suspects Jack is, as well. "Whole damn city knows my face. Can't get any kinda job besides shit like construction."

"Yeah." Jack sighs, too, and takes a long drink from his beer. "I went to fucking Columbia Law, and now I'm bartending."

"Do you miss it?" Pete asks curiously, abruptly. The question has been burning on the tip of his tongue all night now. He takes a drink from his third (fourth?) glass of whiskey. "Being ─ you know. The _other_ other you."

Jack turns his head toward Pete, expression unreadable. Then he smiles a little. "I figured you'd seen me through your scope that night. Yeah, I do." He leans against the bar, resting his chin in his hand. "It's really fucking hard not to go back, but I can't. I put the people I care about in danger, and... Maybe it's selfish, but I have to put them first."

Pete thinks about Karen. Thinks about David and Sarah and the kids. He even thinks about Dinah. "I know the feeling," he admits.

They fall into silence, each finishing their respective drinks. Pete glances to the clock on the wall. It's nearing eleven o'clock. There's been a little playful flirting through the night, but Pete's not sure if Jack's actually after anything here. He's not sure whether he _wants_ him to be. Even thinking about it makes him nervous, and Frank Castle _(no, no, Pete Castiglione)_ does _not_ do nervous.

"I got an early morning," Pete says, taking his wallet from his pocket to pay for his drinks. Jack looks disappointed for half a second, but the expression is gone from his face almost as soon as it'd appeared, and Pete isn't certain it'd even been there at all. Pete adds, "You want me to walk you home?" The moment the words leave his lips, he realizes he should regret it. But he doesn't, and Pete waits patiently while Jack considers the offer. He seems surprised it'd even been made.

"I'd appreciate that," Jack says finally, taking out his wallet to pay for his own drinks, plus the two he'd promised Pete. Once again, Jack is the one to lead the way as they leave the bar. It's considerably darker as they head down the street together, the silence hanging heavy between them. Pete wonders if he's the only one who feels the strange tension buzzing between them. He wonders how much time Jack spends with people outside work. Does anybody else know Matt Murdock is alive aside from his mother? Pete has wanted to ask all night, but he knows neither of them particularly want to talk about the past. So he stays quiet, as he is often wont to do, and tries not to let himself take this outing too far out of context.

"Do you want," Jack asks carefully as they turn down a side street into a rather sketchy neighborhood, "to keep in touch? I understand if you don't, but ─"

"Yeah," Pete says before Jack can finish his sentence, and before he himself can think any better of it. "I mean, might as well, right? Not too many people, uh, can exactly _relate_ to this whole thing." Pete gestures vaguely between them. Jack smiles. They come to a stop outside a small, rough-looking apartment building.

"Put your number in my phone?" Jack asks, taking a phone with a slide-out keyboard from his pocket and offering it to Pete. "You can text or call. Calling is a bit easier for me, though."

Pete complies. The phone speaks aloud each time he presses a button, telling him what exactly he's doing even as it shows up on the screen. Pete only remembers to put himself in under 'Pete' when he hears a mechanical female voice read the letter 'F' aloud. _Shit._ He slips up less and less now, but it's a little harder to do around Jack. When Pete's done, he sends himself a text so he has Jack's number, then hands the phone back to the other. "There you go," Pete says gruffly. He glances over to the apartment building outside of which they stand.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow, if that's alright," Jack offers.

"Go for it," Pete replies. "And thanks for the drinks, Red."

"You know, I never got any compliments in return," Jack grins.

Pete rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, as well. "I said I'd think about it," he says. "And I did. Maybe I'm still waiting for the opportune moment."

"And what kind of moment would that be?"

"I'll let you know when it comes."

There's another weighted silence for a few seconds, then Jack tilts his head toward the apartment building. "I suppose I should..."

"Yeah, me too." Pete scratches at the back of his neck and unnecessarily adds, "Mine, I mean, uh, not yours."

That makes Jack laugh again. "What kinda girl to you take me for?" he teases.

"Maybe we'll find out next time," Pete replies.

The two grin at each other for a moment, that strange tension still buzzing in the air between them. But then Jack claps Pete on the shoulder and turns to go. "I'll see you soon, Pete Castiglione."

Pete bites back the remark that Jack probably won't be seeing _anything_ anytime soon. Instead, he opts for, "See you soon, Red."


End file.
